Although cancer strikes both young and old, it is primarily a disease of aging. In the United States, 50 percent of all malignancies and 67 percent of cancer deaths occur in persons over the age of sixty-five. (That’s currently one American in eight; by the year 2030, it’s expected to be one in five.) Yet, even though they are ten times more likely than younger persons to develop cancer, the elderly are not screened as often; they are referred less frequently to major cancer centers where they have a better chance of being cured; and they are usually treated less aggressively for their disease. …read the rest of this entry»

Wendy, an avid reader with an intense personality, knew a friend who had chemotherapy because of cancer in her spine and her brain. Throughout the chemotherapy, her friend got very sick and then died anyway. The knowledge of her friend’s passing played heavily on Wendy. Why would Wendy want to have chemotherapy now? She was happy enough, too, during her initial stage of recovery from her mastectomy, not knowing whether she would need chemotherapy or not. The uncertainty of cancer was enough for her; she did not feel a need to face chemotherapy as a frightening possibility. As Wendy said of her friend: “She was really sick, and in my mind that is what people looked like when they had chemotherapy.” Certainly, Wendy was hoping, even desperately hoping, to avoid that “really sick” look. But hope and reality too many times are at odds. …read the rest of this entry»

It has been raining all week, which is unusual for Boulder. Tonight when I kissed Rebekah goodnight, water was running so hard through the gutters that she rushed to get into bed to listen to the sound of droplets splashing against tile roof. …read the rest of this entry»

My mother is with us today and will be forever. I love her very much and miss her more than I can convey to you. Perhaps I miss her so much because she had three roles in my life—my mother, my sister, and my best friend. We always said we grew up together.So my loss is that much greater. When I think of my mother and her legacy, a number of words come to my mind: courage, grace, dignity, faith, love, strength, a sense of humor, intelligence, humility, compassion, giving, caring and—to the last day—an incredible love of life. …read the rest of this entry»

Breckenridge. I have been in our mountain home in Colorado for two days now, trying to put finishing touches on a manuscript that represents two years of my personal journal entries. It snowed all day yesterday, setting records for snowfall and low temperatures. The first storm of the winter is always invigorating, and I feel a quiet, exquisite zeal that I remember from my childhood, a state of pleasant emotion that carries with it an acute awareness of physical sensation. There was a tenseness in my shoulders as I watched the flakes take their long route to the ground, first blowing horizontally above the pines before starting a downward spiral into the branches and onto the clearings of grass. …read the rest of this entry»

I have the doctor’s permission to start walking in the field. As I follow the narrow dirt path, I realize that I have missed a whole season. When I first entered the hospital in mid-September, the trees were in full leaf: aspen and birch branches were heavy with foliage, so leaves touched leaves, layers touched layers. Now only a few dry, yellow flakes are strung along thin boughs, the air is not that of fall, but of approaching winter. The sky is cold, full of wind. All around there are shadows, and the warm air is gone. …read the rest of this entry»

Last night, Gordon, Rebekah, and I attended the opera, Carmen, in Denver. Rebekah wore a new dress—light blue with white flowers—made especially for the occasion. Her blonde hair was pulled into a horizontal French braid, and a small row of pearls rested on her neck. Finally, a beauty-shop manicure made bitten nails look surprisingly good, and a touch of make-up gave her skin a warm glow. No one could question that she looked beautiful and very grown-up. …read the rest of this entry»

From the beginning of this book, I’ve been using the expression Carpe diem. The expression is neither mine nor Robin Williams’, who used it repeatedly and pointedly in The Dead Poets Society, a fine movie.The words come from a work of the noted Roman poet of two millennia ago, Quintus Horatius Flaccus, whom we call Horace. In the eleventh ode of book one, he used the words Carpe diem, literally, “seize the day,” or better, “enjoy today.” For many years the words Carpe diem have been current in English. I’ve known many people virginal of Latin who use them. So, ’tis time. Here is the whole of Horace’s poem. …read the rest of this entry»

I’m unsuccessfully trying to come up with an active form of the verb to be born and a passive form of the verb to die. I know we talk of “birthing,” but that’s the action of someone else, not the person getting born. All this came about from some reflections on death. Although we can be somewhat passive agents in the inexorable course of dying, we should be active in our lifestyle right to the end.This cogitation came about when a nurse friend, about to participate in a workshop on humanizing death, asked for any gems of wisdom I might have. I may be in short supply of wisdom, but herewith a few thoughts anyway. …read the rest of this entry»

A while ago I read the journal I kept during my sojourn in Italy. I relived the many wonderful hours, over four days, that I spent with Alberto Stefanelli and his family in Rome. He had been much on my mind anyway, because his strikingly beautiful daughter Laura had been here with me and my family.A week after Laura was with us, I got a phone call. Alberto had died suddenly, siting in the piazza of the little medieval Umbrian village where he was born, and where he delighted in spending his summer vacations away from the scorching heat of Rome. …read the rest of this entry»